


Containment

by CharityLambkin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Banner Feels, Bruce Is a Good Bro, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Protective Bruce Banner, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros, Sick Character, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5528429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharityLambkin/pseuds/CharityLambkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Secret Santa present from the sciencebrosweek tumblr event.  So Happy Holidays and I hope you like it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Containment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Werevampiwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werevampiwolf/gifts).



Tony woke to the smell of recycled air and the distant whir of an air compressor.  His hips was sore where his weight had been resting in an awkward position, so he had been out for a while, and the taste of metal in the back of his throat meant that he’d been drugged, probably after he’d been knocked out. 

With a groan more of protest than effort, Tony tried to stand up and immediately banged his head on the metal ceiling.  He cursed and lifted his hand to the low ceiling to keep him from hitting it again.  Four feet, maybe, narrow and metal all the way around.  Tony lowered from a crouch onto his hands and knees, but he barely had enough room to crawl a few paces and turn around.

The entire room shook and rumbled as one wall slid open.  Tony lunged forward, but a solid weight pushed him back and the door slammed shut before he could maneuver around in the tiny room.  He ran his fingers all around the seam of the door, but he couldn’t feel a hinge or mechanism anywhere.

“Tony?” a hoarse, familiar groan made him turn around.

Bruce was crumpled on the floor where he’d been dumped, his legs still tangled up with Tony’s in the cramped space.  His glasses and belt were missing, and his shirt was pulled out of the waist of his jeans.  He was pale, too, and breathing hard.

“Where are we, Tony?”

Tony sighed and leaned back to rest his head against the wall.  “I don’t know.  Kidnapped, as usual.  But I’m guessing.  All I know is that their hospitality is seriously lacking because I just woke up and I need a huge cup of coffee if I’m going to be useful to anyone.”

Bruce screwed his eyes shut and swallowed thickly.  “Don’t talk about food.  I feel sick and I don’t want to throw up in here.”

“Oh please, don’t.”

“I’m trying not to.”

Tony looked closer at Bruce.  He had his hands wrapped around his stomach and he drew his knees up to his chest in an attempt to take up as little space as possible and still lie down.   But little beads of sweat were starting to form on the back of his neck, and he was breathing in a slow, forced pace.

“What did they do to you, Bruce?” Tony asked, and he could hear the edge in his voice.

“I don’t know.  Injected me with something and threw me in here,” Bruce said slowly.  “It’s ok, they didn’t hurt me.”

“You don’t look so ok.”

“I’m just nauseous.   I’ll be ok.  It’s just been a long time since I’ve had food poisoning or something like that.”

“Really?  Even after eating Indian street food and drinking favela tap water?”

Bruce chuckled , then winced.  “Yeah.  The Other Guy takes care of it.  My body’s too radioactive to support viruses or bacteria or parasites.”

“…so why are you sick now?”

“I don’t know.  JARVIS could run a toxicology screen. ”

Tony shook his head.  “I don’t have my phone.”

Bruce blew out a long breath and pressed his forehead to the cold floor.  He had gone a shade paler, and the curls on the back of his neck were damp.

Tony attacked the door again, but the second attempt was no different than the first.  He went for the light fixtures next, but the room was illuminated by light diffused through panels on the ceiling that were sealed closed.  The air seemed to seep from the ceiling, too, so the vents must have been hidden somewhere with the lights.

It took around twenty minutes for Tony to give up trying to pry the light panels apart.  The whole time, Bruce’s measured breathing echoed around the room, every now and again turning to soft pants as he rode through a stomach cramp.  He licked his lips compulsively; they were dry and already cracking, which just made him lick them more.  Tony wished he had water to offer him, but there was nothing.

“Doing ok there, Big Guy?” Tony asked as he crawled the small distance to where Bruce had jammed himself in the corner.

“Stay AWAY,” said Bruce’s voice, deeper than it should be.  His eyes widened in horror and he pushed himself further into the corner.

Tony had drawn back, but he leaned forward again and reached out to lay a hand on Bruce’s shoulder.  He shuddered but didn’t shrug it off, so Tony scooted closer.

“I think we’re going to need you to break us out of here,” Tony admitted.

“No!” Bruce gasped.  “No, not in here.  I can’t!”

“I think you gotta.”

“Not in here.  It’s too small, the walls are adamantium, and we’re underground.   I’ll get out, but you’ll be crushed.  I’ll kill you if I transform.”

“…we’re underground?”

“Yes,” Bruce said through gritted teeth. “We went down a lot of stairs before they pushed me in here.”

“We’re fucked.”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll wait it out,” Tony said.  “They’ll come and get us, the bad guys always do, and we’ll see what they want and go from there.”

“Sounds good, Tony,” Bruce replied, but he could hardly speak.  His face crumpled and he barely managed to push himself to his hands and knees before he vomited bloody foam onto the floor.

Tony knelt beside him and held him up with an arm wrapped around his chest as he heaved.  Nothing came up except bile and more foamy stomach acid, bright red with blood.

“Oh god, Bruce,” Tony said as he pulled Bruce as far away from the mess as the situation would allow.  His skin was hot, and his shirt was soaked in sweat so Tony unbuttoned it.  As his fingers brushed over Bruce’s abdomen, he could feel the muscles cramping under his skin.

“What’s going on, Bruce?  Talk to me, buddy.”

“I don’t know.  I feel like something’s trying to eat me from the inside out.”

He was dripping sweat now, his hair limp and sticking to his forehead.  He groaned and Tony helped him turn over so he could throw up again, but nothing came up that time.  But Tony could feel Bruce shaking as he settled him on his left side with his head pillowed in Tony’s lap.  He combed the wet hair from his face and rubbed his back.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I wish I could just Hulk out,” Bruce moaned.

Tony smiled, though Bruce couldn’t see it from the position he was in.  “Me too, Big Guy.  Just try to hold on.”

Bruce nodded, but the next pang had him clutching to Tony’s chest, squeezing so hard that Tony had to hold his breath for a little while so Bruce wouldn’t hear him wheeze.  After a few long minutes, he let go and allowed Tony to settle him back down.  He could sit up with his back against one wall and his feet stretched out in front of him, giving Bruce the biggest space to lie down.   Bruce was quiet for a few moments, though when he swallowed a little froth formed at the corner of his mouth.  Tony wiped it away with the corner of his sleeve.  Bruce, eyes shut tight, didn’t seem to notice.

“I think you should just do it,” Tony said quietly.

“No.”  Bruce didn’t even open his eyes to respond.

“Yes.  I think you underestimate how careful Hulk can be—“

Bruce opened his eyes.   They were shot through with red.   “When I transform, my whole body breaks apart and reforms.  Sometimes it happens so fast that I don’t really feel it, but I can remember what it feels like afterwards.   I can’t do that in here without crushing you against the wall.  You’d break before the walls and whatever is behind them does.”

That speech took whatever steam Bruce had left, and he curled tighter onto his side.  “If this gets much worse, though, I may not be able to stop it anyway.”

“Worse?  How is it worse?”  Tony said.

“It’s hard to explain.  I feel like I drank acid or like there’s a hot coal burning me up from the inside.”

He seemed dazed as he tried to push himself up onto his feet, as if he had forgotten where they were.  Tony quickly grabbed him by the shoulders before he could hit his head and lowered him back down.

“You’re sick, Bruce.  Really sick,” Tony pleaded as he tried to get Bruce to settle onto the hard floor.  “Just lie down and rest as much as you can.”

Bruce shook his head a bit and looked at Tony as if he had only seen him there for the first time.  “Tony?”

And then Bruce’s eyes rolled back into his head and he went limp in Tony’s arms.

“Fuck!” Tony said.  He didn’t know what to do.  He really didn’t.  All he could really do was put Bruce down in recovery position as best as he could and make sure he was still breathing. 

He could have passed out from internal bleeding, or pain, or even a seizure if the amount of body heat pouring off him was any way to judge.  Bruce needed ice, water, and a freaking doctor, and they needed to get the fuck out of there.

A low, pained moan from Bruce snapped his attention back to his friend.

Bruce’s voice was thready, but he could hear his name, “Tony” and “I’m sorry,” over and over again.

“Hey buddy, no don’t go there.  Nothing to be sorry for.”  Tony laid down against Bruce’s back and drew him tight against his chest.  Bruce didn’t respond or fight him away.

But Tony could feel the muscles all the way down his back start to bulge with every weaker inhalation.  Bruce was quiet, but if Tony pressed his ear to the spot between his shoulder blades, he could hear the creaking stretch of his tendons, and the deeper pop of bone sliding in and out of socket.  Bruce was holding on by measuring his breathing, focusing on one breath at a time, one second at a time.  Tony had seen him do it many times before, but he never thought his life would be riding on some anger management breathing exercises. 

“I can’t do this!” Bruce choked out, but he continued to lie perfectly still, even as his body strained to expand a little more with every breath.

Tony didn’t know what else to do but to hold on tighter, clinging to Bruce just as Bruce clung to the last of his strength.  The shoulder seams of Bruce’s shirt popped open as malformed green muscle popped through.

“This isn’t your fault, Bruce.  You didn’t put us in here.  You have to know that.”

Bruce didn’t answer.  He might be too far away to even hear.

Tony thought he was going to die.  Truly, he was going to die crushed to death by his best friend, who was then going to carry that guilt inside himself until the day he (though he might be immortal) died.  He needed to say something—anything—to let him know that it was ok, but for once in his life no words would come.  So he just held tighter and pressed his lips against the back of Bruce’s hot, damp neck.

After that one last quiet moment, things happened very quickly.  Tony felt the air pressure in the room change at the same time as someone grabbing him and dragging him out of the room.  He tried to fight the person off, but when he opened his eyes, it was Thor sitting on him and stretching his arm out so that Natasha could press a hypodermic spray to his wrist.

But Tony couldn’t even feel it because he was focused on Clint as the archer backed out of the low door on his knees, dragging Bruce out behind him.  He barely had Bruce clear before he was thrown backwards by a powerful green arm, and the Hulk burst from Bruce’s form, reaching his head back to bellow his pain to the sky.  Thor grabbed Natasha and thrust her behind him while lying down closer over Tony to cover his back.  The room—a control room by the looks of it--they were in now was huge compared to their previous accommodations, but with five super humans and a nine-foot Hulk, any room can seem claustrophobic.

After Hulk had screamed himself hoarse, he doubled over and clutched at his stomach.  Red froth bubbled from his mouth like a monstrous rabid animal, and for the first time that day, Tony was afraid for Bruce.

“The antidote!” Steve’s voice called across the room.

“Already dosed him!” Clint answered from where he was still pressed against the wall where he landed.  He held up an empty hypo spray canister.  “Just give his immune system a minute to react.”

True enough, Hulk was already on his knees, hands holding his belly while he slowly bent over and pressed his forehead to the cold concrete.  He panted, and his face twisted a few times, but it wasn’t long before he looked up at Tony with red-shot brown eyes and collapsed into a puddle of Bruce on the floor.

Everyone was quiet for a long moment.  Clint was the first to react, shrugging off his long leather coat to roll Bruce into it.

“He’s burning up still,” Clint said.  “Steve, where’s the med kit?”

Clint’s mention of the medkit snapped everyone else back into action—well except Thor who seemed content to use Tony as a Laz-e-boy.

 “OWW!  Get the fuck off!” Tony said.  “What the fuck did you just inject me with?”

“It the antidote to the virus A.I.M. injected Bruce with,” Natasha explained, as if she even cared about his opinion on being injected with strange chemicals. “They’re giving Bruce more of the antidote and stabilizing him,” Natasha said.  “Like we’re doing with you.”

Tony bucked his hips, but it was like trying to throw a mountain off his back.  “I’m pretty stable.  Let me up?”

Thor rose in one fluid movement and pulled Tony up with him.  He was grateful for the support at first because it was a little odd to be standing at his full height, but as soon as he felt like his knees wouldn’t buckle, he back away from his teammates, ostensibly to explore any threats in his new surroundings.  He was definitely in a control room of some sort, made of the same type of metal as the tiny room to the side, but with a concrete floor.   There was an empty desk on one end and a single workstation with a computer and a video feed showing the now-empty room. 

“Let’s take a look at you,” Natasha said as she stepped closer, but Tony waved her away.

“I’m fine.   I was collateral damage, and if you gave me the antidote already, then I don’t have to worry about getting sick later, right?”

“Hopefully.  Thirsty?”

She tossed him a carton of orange juice that she got from heaven knows where.  Tony downed it in two long swallows, and by the time he was done, Clint and Steve had an intravenous line in Bruce's arm, feeding in a clear bag of liquid that Steve was holding up over his head.

They had taken his shirt off to make room for the EKG pads stuck to his chest.  His eyes were closed and his breathing was deep and steady, but Tony wasn’t sure if he was asleep.

Cap sent Thor and Natasha to bring the jet closer and get a stretcher, since they all seemed set on treating Bruce a lot gentler than they were treating Tony.  He put Hawkeye on watch so he could focus on his two injured teammates.

“How’s the pain, Bruce?” Steve asked, though he looked pointedly at Tony.

“It’s ok.  Manageable,” Bruce answered.  He even opened his eyes and gave Cap a wry smile.

Steve looked at Tony again, then at Bruce.  He really needed to learn to be more subtle, Tony thought.  There was no way Bruce didn’t notice that.

Tony sauntered—stumbled a little, but that’s ok—over to where Bruce was laying on the floor.  He lowered himself down stiffly so he didn’t tower over the poor guy.

“You managed to not squish us,” Tony said. Bruce winced so Tony started again.  “You look like you’re feeling better.  Are you?”

“Steve and Clint were pretty free with the morphine and elephant tranquilizers,” Bruce mumbled through numb lips.  He smiled.  “I didn’t kill you,” he said brightly, but the enthusiasm turned into a wet cough that left his lips tinged red.  Steve sighed and crouched down to wipe it away.

“Let’s finish dealing with what’s trying to kill _you_ first, ok Bruce?”

While they waited, Steve fished a box of alcohol wipes from the med kit and tossed them to Tony.  He was grateful for the chance to clean up, even though the smell was so sharp that it made his eyes water.  He really wished he had his helmet to filter out the smell.

But if he was in some off-grid scientist’s secret biologic weapon kitchen, he would deal with the alcohol in return for the illusion of disinfection. 

He got the worst of the grime from his own hands before he started on Bruce’s hands and face.  Bruce hissed a little as the cold alcohol came in contact with his overheated skin, but Tony knew he felt better when he was clean.

“Thanks,” Bruce mumbled when Tony was done.

The stretcher arrived, though Bruce was already dozing.  He didn’t wake even as he was lifted on the stretcher and Steve pulled the blanket all the way up to his chin.  In fact, he was so deeply asleep that Tony suspected that Steve slipped another ampule of morphine into the IV when neither of them were looking.  Steve then locked the rails up and balanced his shield across the rails, effectively shielding his head and upper body, but also blocking his view if he were to wake up.

Tony looked at Steve quizzically and the blond shrugged.  “I don’t want him to see what’s out there.  Hell, I don’t want _you_ to see what’s out there either but I probably can’t stop that.”

“What did you guys do?” Tony asked.  He had no doubts that his teammates would go to any lengths to get them back from a kidnapper, but so far Tony hadn’t even seen a single antagonist.

“Nothing,” Steve said.  He looked away, then back at Tony.  “We walked straight through here unimpeded.  Everyone was already dead.  Whatever they did, they did it to themselves.”

Bruce was ready to be moved, so they went out as a team.  Thor took point with Cap and Clint on either end of the stretcher and Tony walking beside it.  Natasha guarded the rear, her gear on full glow so Steve could look back and see her in the dark.

Of course, whatever warnings Steve gave Tony only wanted him to look _more_ , though of course he regretted it as soon as they encountered the first body.  It was lying half through a door from a lab into the corridor, splayed face-up.  His twisted, bloated face was covered in thin blood that dripped down his chin to pool on the floor by his cheek.  But a bigger pool of thick blood and viscera lay beneath his body, under a huge ulcerated wound.

Tony gasped, and turned and stumbled, and would have been sick except that he didn’t really know where to turn to throw up.  He closed his eyes and saw Bruce writhing in pain.  He wanted to stop and sit down for a minute until the room stopped spinning around him.

A huge, warm hand wrapped around his bicep and pulled him upright and forward so he was forced to keep walking.  There was fine wool brushing his face and he was wrapped in the smell of ozone as Thor’s cape tangled around his shoulders.  He opened his eyes and saw red cloth all around him before Thor pushed him closer to Bruce’s stretcher. 

“Keep going forward.  This is not a place to linger,” Thor said, his voice warm and kind but firm.

“We’ve only been in there for a few hours,” Tony said.  “How could this have happened in a few hours?”

“They were trying to weaponize a flesh-eating virus,” Natasha answered.  “Anything could have happened.”

“It looks like someone wasn’t practicing good lab safety,” Clint said as he stepped sideways to avoid a puddle of blood.

“We have to analyze the intelligence when we get back to base, but my instincts say that someone left you and Bruce here to die.  I don’t think they were ever intending to come back,” Steve said.

“They could have been monitoring the video stream remotely!” Tony said.  “Maybe I can use that to track down more of their bases.”

Steve nodded.  “Hopefully.  But I’m just grateful that we got you two back before it was too late.”

Tony couldn’t see Bruce’s face because of the way he was covered by the shield, but he tried to look anyway.

“Yeah, Cap.  Thanks for coming for us.”

****

Tony stood at the door of Bruce’s suite, juggling a Styrofoam quart of hot soup in his hands.

“JARVIS, ask Bruce if I can come in?”

A second later, the electronic lock on the door clicked open and Tony stepped through and closed it behind him.

“Hey, Brucie.  I brought you vegetarian pho.  Vietnamese penicillin, I’m told,” Tony said as he unpacked the soup in the kitchen.  He poured some into bowls and stuck the rest in the fridge before bringing both bowls to Bruce’s bedroom.  “Feeling better?”

Bruce was huddled in the middle of the large platform bed, a bundle of misery.  He looked better, Tony thought, than the day before.  He had mostly slept through that day, though, and it was only now that he was waking up that he was really suffering.

“Better,” Bruce confirmed.  “Just like I have the regular flu instead of an alien parasite using me as an incubator.  Still, I forgot how much having the regular flue sucks.”

“Hungry?  I brought pho.”

“From the place with the dragon in the window or the one with the lucky cat?”

“Lucky cat.”

“Yes, please.”

Tony put the bowl on a pillow in Bruce’s lap.  There were chopsticks, but Bruce ignored them and drank from the bowl, so Tony did the same.

“You could come hang out upstairs, you know, sleep on the couch where there’s company,” Tony said.  “You don’t have to exile yourself in your room all day.”

“I’m self-isolating while I’m displaying symptoms.”

Tony shrugged.  “Your immune system is just freaking the fuck out over what it’s been through and inflaming everything because it doesn’t know what to do.”

“You’re probably right,” Bruce admitted.

“I know I am because that’s what you told me, and you’re the doctor.”

Bruce smiled.  “I’m fine, Tony.  I’m tired and achy but really I don’t feel much worse than I usually do, _after_ …so…”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said.

“Oh don’t start that now,” Bruce laughed.  “There’s way too long of a list and I’m too tired to keep track right now.”

“No, I mean, I really didn’t know that it…that you hurt so much when you transform.”  Bruce’s face softened but he didn’t interrupt again.  “I tease you about it all the time but it’s not really funny, is it?”

“No, not really.  Are you going to stop, though?”  Bruce didn’t sounded more curious than accusatory, like he thought that Tony couldn’t really stop, even if he tried.

“Slow your roll, Big Guy.”

Bruce laughed again.  He was definitely feeling better.  Not well yet, but better. 

Still, Bruce yawned, and the banter must have taken something out of him because he placed the unfinished bowl of soup aside and lay down again.  Tony helped him adjust the pillows and pull the blanket back up over his shoulders.

“Want me to stay?” Tony asked.

“No, you don’t have to.  I’m just going to sleep and hopefully this soup will stay down.”

“I’ll come back in an hour or two with Sprite and saltines to check on you,” Tony promised.

Bruce chuckled.  “Sprite and saltines,” he repeated.  “I forgot what this felt like.”

“I know, being sick sucks, but I swear the soda works.”

“No, no, I mean what it feels like to be taken care of.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
